Batman: Stuck
by Cookthebooksco
Summary: Bruce Wayne wakes up to find himself trapped in the abandoned sewers in Coventry. As he attempts to escape and figure out how he got there, a much more sinister plot lurks in the shadows.
1. Chapter 1

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Batman

1\. Stuck

'Take a breath Bruce', whispers Selina 'Breathe'

Bruces eyes shoot open. He attempts a breath. Water is everywhere.

His mouth instantly fills with dirty water. He spits out what he can. His head throbs harder as he tries to calculate. Arms are wedged. Eyes bulging. He can feel his blood rush faster and faster. A water garbled wailing fills the empty chamber and echoes around and out of the rusted grates of the abandoned sewer system.

Bruce pants and puffs, mind racing. Come on Bruce, slow down. Think. You are on your back, so that's a good thing, you can breathe. For now. He tries to look past his feet into the ominous darkness. Above, there's a din of light. Something. It's hard to tell. Hm. Copper? It's tight, but there's wriggle room.

Bruce shimmies along on his back towards it. He gets close before, budge. His shoulder hits a snag, a big rusty tear in the side of the pipeline. The water rushes faster over his face as he moves up and around. Avoid it and get to the light. The sharp piece juts out, catching and tearing his shirt.

Bruce moves past to see that the light is a grate. Looks kinda rusty, maybe its loose. Taking some very vital deep breaths before lunging down onto his back, his face underwater. Pushing the grate up with the force. The rusty, jagged tear starts to dig into his upper thigh. He stops and takes a breath. Again, he pushes harder up, holding his breath as his thigh starts to spasm and sting.

Fuzzy vision and bleeding leg aside, in a desperate attempt Bruce seems to combine might with muster, multiplied by brain power and push. And push. And Push. The grate warps and tears slowly before it snaps to pieces in his hands. Bruce jolts up out of his almost tomb, this pipeline, gasping for air and looking at his hands. He flops out appropriately fish-like, tearing the rest of his left leg along the way. Thigh to heel.

'Well fuckin' great' Bruce mumbles to himself, 'That's gonna get infected, for sure' Bruce looks around the dimly lit cavernous hall that he was underneath only moments ago. Dank and dusty, puddles all around and definitely vermin. The only other things around were the occasional safety hazard sign or warning light. There's two options, this way, or that way. Bruce decides on that way, down the walkway.

After continuing on in the same direction, for what must've been at least an hour, Bruce comes to rest his leg. As he stops, something behind him stops too. He takes a few more steps, always facing ahead. Nothing. Cautiously Bruce continues as the walkway turns away and up a flight of steel stairs to a largeish office and control centre, some old equipment and computers.

Bruce looks around for something useful but its all outdated and dead. But at least now he knows where he is. There's a huge map on the far wall labelled TREATMENT PLANT, COVENTRY and as he follows the quickest route along the map with his finger, someone slams his head into the wall. Two times. The someone then stuffs a rag into Bruce's open mouth, as he struggles to breathe even more than before. He goes woozy fast and hits the concrete floor hard.

Wrists and ankles tied to a rickety chair Bruce comes to, keeping his head down because that goddamn light is too bright. Eyes on his lap, there's two voices. A deep one and annoying one. The deep one talks very little, and the annoying one only gets more annoying as he continues.


	2. Chapter 2

2\. Down The Rabbit Hole

A young mother reads her son the Carroll classic, Alice in Wonderland, before she tucks him in to bed and gives him a kiss goodnight. The boy, who wouldn't be older than 7 or 8, asks his mother when his father was going to be home. She replies offhandedly that she isn't sure, but should be soon. His father was never home. Just as the boy drifts off the front door swings open and shut again, and the raised voices of his mother and father soon sweep the house.

The boys father is a mid-level drug runner for the GMC and had recently run a big favour for some of the "higher ups" and after weeks of waiting, had found that his cut had been embezzled within. Furious with the GMC, the man set fire to two shopfronts and two clubhouses, destroying several hundred thousand dollars worth of product and burnt everyone inside. The people he used to call friends.

Unfortunately the Big Boss, Psycho Pete wasn't in the clubhouse he's usually in on a Thursday. He assembles the remainder of his gang and hunts down the boys father, who foolishly came back to his home. It wasn't very long after his father returned home, that his bedroom was mangled with bullets. The boy hears a bloodcurdling scream- that suddenly stops. His mother.

The gunfire dies down a little as the boys father bursts in and forces the boy under his bed. As the man turns around he comes face to face with Psycho Pete, who says nothing more than "scum" and shoots the man. Once in each kneecap and slits his throat. Bleeding out, the man stares into his sons eyes, and dies. The boy reaches for, and clutches, his beloved book.

Psycho Pete, contrary to his namesake, empathises with the boy and takes him by the hand. He leads the boy to an ice den on the corner of Third and North St, sits the boy down on the couch and heads into the back room and overdoses. The boy spent the next 10 years living here, indulging in the lifestyle and growing ever more reclusive and paranoid. But he always held his book tight.

That was his home, with Alice and the white rabbit. How he longed to just vanish down a hole, and have his own adventures in a wonderland. The boy, now a man, would run odd jobs for the gang under the alias "Tetch" for some years before he'd had enough. He poisoned the dens water supply, pilfered a heap of lab equipment and disappeared into the abandoned sewers near Coventry, in the hope of finding his own private wonderland.

That was years ago. In time he became something of a legend. A ghost story.

* * *

The treatment plant staff room and offices had an erratic makeover, paint smeared over walls and shattered glass all around. There was years worth of the junkies mind-warped murals and innocent possessions of the runaway children Tetch had since experimented on. He has become quite proud of his chemical expertise. And now he has the Pillar of Gotham, The Great Bruce Wayne, here tied to his chair.

How the mighty have fallen. How fun it will be to witness him descend into madness, to watch him die. "I want my money" says the hired goon, the muscle. He knows perfectly well he won't get paid until Wayne is dead, but Tetch doesn't listen, doesn't care. Time is just a construct, he has all he needs. "Look" says Tetch, sharply "I've just injected him with a special concoction of mine. An LD50. Enough to kill Hunter S. and then some. My farewell treat, lets say."

"Frank wants him dead" says the goon "So hurry it. I need to go"

Wayne stirs in the chair, and both men look over. "Get going then, I don't need you" Tetch squeals. What the hell did this guy even know about Frank anyway, thought Tetch, Frank has been my accomplice for years, this jacked-up-jackarse doesn't get it, he never will. Frank does.

Tetch continues to stare at the goon, until he leaves with a sigh.

"Now that he's gone" starts Tetch "We can start. Sounds fun, Hm?" Tetch lifts Wayne's head by his hair, light pouring straight into his eyes. He flinches and pulls but his neck swings and droops over the back of the chair. The air around is piercing but muffled, his skin feels like its prickling and burning. Deafening pierces sway in and out of his head as Tetch talks on and on. Wayne vomits a little down his chin, the crying windlessly leaves his lungs and his ears ring damply.

Tetch gets right in Wayne's face and grins widely, looking very pleased with himself. Tetch then turns around and calls off into the darkness. Suddenly a half dozen beady eyes light up in the distance. Cold and wide, they venture closer. Tetch turns back to Wayne and calmly says "Tea Time"


	3. Chapter 3

3\. Wonderland

The bright, beady eyes glow in the faraway darkness. They sway and float and move closer and closer. Bruce hangs his head down, just for a second, just to try and stop this endless motion, this sickness. His eyes heavy and breath heaves and time feels as if it is circling the drain. A rush that doesn't lead to anyplace. Tied down to this goddamn chair. Feet are numb and hands shake with no control, the only thing stopping them are the belts that strap them to the chair arms.

The eyes are so close Bruce can feel the heat radiating off of them. They beacon and bellow and make his brain squirm and slush. His face melts away with sweat and blood inside their haunted stare. Bruce groans and slumps. Tetch slaps him hard across the face but Bruce stays slumped, he is reduced to a lone, dark shell of a man. Tetch slaps him again and again. "You're late, You're late", he keeps yelling, as his voice pitches higher to a psychotic squealing.

Tetch grabs Bruce by a tuft of hair in his dirty palms and pulls his head back over the chair, hard. "It's tea time Mr. Wayne", he squeals again, "and you're being awfully rude", and with that Tetch slams his fist down into Bruce's face, cracking his neck over the back of the chair frame. Bruce recoils and howls, spluttering and shaking in his chair as Tetch finds himself inches away from Bruce's face. Bruce headbutts him, but just before he connects, Tetch brings up a closed fist and smacks him in the jaw, the two forces coming together with a crack that echoes through this underground hell hole.

Tetch recoils and cries out, holding his hand, "What is that thick, stupid face made out of Mr. Wayne?" Tetch composes himself, and then smiles widely "A soft, rich jerk off like you! Never mind, say hello to my little friends", he let out a little giggle. Tetch thinks himself funny. Bruce lifts his gaze back up to the maniac and notices he is now sitting at the far end of a long, long table. A young blonde girl sits next to Tetch, staring right through Bruces soul with dark, hollow eyes, and a sickly pert smile.

"Hello", says the girl, "I am Alice, and you are Batman."

How could she possibly know that? This poor girl has to have been trapped down here for at least as long as the Batman has been around. The room swirls and fuzzes, back and forth. "Run girl", Bruce whispers through fat lips and swollen cheeks, "Run, while you have the chance." The girl laughs and says, "Silly man, time is not pertinent here, you old fool. Martha should've taught you that."

What? Who is this girl? "Please", Bruce manages, "Please untie me." Tetch swiftly turns around and approaches Bruce, "Getting awfully chatty now, eh?" he says, as he picks up a large steel rod. Tetch stops for a moment and smiles, before forcing the rod into the wound on Bruces thigh. Bruce wails and thrashes as Tetch continues to stare and smile and push. Bruce is sure he can feel his tendons snap and curl, and his muscles tear apart.

The girl continues, "Is that why you let them die? Are they very proud of you? Why don't you ask them? I'm sure you're dying to hear." she giggles and grips into her hairline, and slowly tears her face off. At first its stubborn, but then just bloodily slips away. Daddy now sits in her place, looking as serious as always, even when covered in the girls blood.

"All of my good, hard work! You turned my legacy into an abomination. You are a failure, Bruce, you have failed me and your mother. You are the Devil. You are a broken little boy. I should have spanked you harder. I should've beaten you more, try and knock some sense in. You are dead to me. You are dead to your mother. Even from the grave, we seethe and spite your existence. Do me a favour, son, and die quickly. Your shameful legacy will fade away, so do it now. Die."

Bruce's Father then grabs his jaw and snaps it down to dislocate. It hangs off his skull as he pulls his cheeks wide, and the girl emerges out from his throat, wearing him like some sort of overcoat. She giggles again.

The girl, there's something different about her. Her eyes. Her eyes are like his mothers. No, they _are_ her eyes.

She says, "My little boy, my young son, you had such a bright future. Your Father and I gave you everything, because we loved you. We _loved_ you. Our entire livelihoods have been torn apart, and its all because of you, my love, my boy. Die now, and put your Fathers mind at rest. He is so worn and tired. Please Brucie, die quickly. We need you to die now."

Bruce, lost in this hellscape and unsure of existence and wholly numb, lifts his head up and spits in his mothers face. Blood sprays on her face as she sits at an absolute stillness, and then licks her lips and giggles uncontrollably. Tetch, who was standing next to her, stoops down to her height and licks her face too. "Mmm", Tetch says, "More tea, Sir?"

Tetch disappears, and then returns with a funnel and a mason jar of dirty looking liquid. Open wide, he squeals with a laugh and forces the funnel into Bruce's mouth. Bruce tries to turn and resist but the psychopath already has his head held back. Tetch pours half of the contents of the mason down his throat. Bruce takes one down, two down, and then chokes and splutters and shoots everything back out of the funnel, directly into Tetch's face. He recoils, shouting at the girl, who jumps across the table and sinks her teeth into Bruce's jugular.

Bruce cries out and in all the chaos of trying to get her off of him, the chair rocks over and they fall to the floor. Tetch wipes the concoction out of his eyes and picks up the steel rod at his feet and lifts it above his head. As he brings it down for a heavy swing to Bruce's chest, Bruce rolls the chair over and takes a hit to his forearm. He screams in agony as Tetch lifts it up again and swings back down to the exact same spot. As the rod connects with Bruce's arm, the arm of the chair gives way, and breaks.

Bruce immediately, without even thinking, grabs the girls head and slams it into the concrete floor. Eyes wide open she cries out, "Daddy please stop" and as Tetch comes down with the heavy rod once more, Bruce lifts the girl up and she takes the full force of the downwards swing to the back of the neck, with a bloodcurdling crack. Her head hangs limp, like a sock full of nickles, and eyes still open but suddenly they soften. Large blue eyes, welling with tears she asks Bruce, "Why Daddy?" and then, ever so subtly, she looks at Tetch and winks.

Tetch drops to his knees and sobs over the girl, as Bruce undoes to remaining constraints on the chair. Bruce composes himself as much as he can and picks up the rod. "Get up" he commands, but Tetch stays slumped over, and with a croaky sobbing voice say "You think you know what is goin-"

That's as far as Tetch got before Bruce swings the rod down across his back. Again and again and again. Bruce then gets the restraints off of the chair, and drags Tetch over to an old, but sturdy looking pipeline running from roof to floor. Bruce ties Tetch to the pipeline and leaves. Tetch calls out something from behind but Bruce has has enough of this joker. Bruce mutters behind him, "Rot in hell" and finds an exit.

Bruce navigates another length of sewer lines before he finally breaks out into the blinding light of the outside world. How long had he been trapped underground? After a few minutes taken to adjust to his surroundings, Bruce realised where he was. The slums. Bleeding leg and broken arm, no shoes, wet, cold and disoriented, Bruce heads west down an alleyway.


	4. Chapter 4

4\. Slumdog Runner

The slums of Gotham Bay were a long forgotten, dark and dingy place, populated by people who only exacerbated the perception. It was dusk when Bruce stumbled into the tight, old alleyways. It cast a dark orange glow around, making the refuse somehow picturesque in the light. Smoke and steam lingered in the streets, the distant, drunken shouting of bar fights filled the air and the humidity was inescapable.

Bruce, beaten, broken and drenched, kept his head down as he limped along the alleyway towards the bay. You don't want the attention at the best of times, he thought, let alone now. Just keep moving and get your bearings. The light beacons in his squinting eyes and made his head throb harder, until the sun finally set over the bay.

What was once the proud Old Gotham Docks, had nowadays turned and attracted all types of undesirables. Hidden away under the reconditioned Coventry Bridge, the shady docks were mainly used for drug smuggling or prostitution and the authorities rarely made appearances around here. Unless, of course, they were harassing dealers for cheaper drugs or coercing women for free favours.

Bruce steered his way to the very edges of the open streets, staying in the shadows as much as possible. He walked briskly, considering the excruciating pain in his leg, and he could feel eyes turn on him. He knew he was an easy target and couldn't falter.

"Hey asshole, where are you going?!" a gruff voice yelled out from across the street, outside O'Malleys pub, followed by a small rupture of laughter.

"Get a job, you bum!"

Just keep going, Bruce told himself, they haven't recognised you yet. Get past them and around the corner. He knew there was a payphone around that side somewhere.

"Wait no, that's that rich fucker Wayne!" They chattered amongst themselves. Bruce picked up his pace, in spite of the overbearing pain in his arm and the scathing stinging in his leg.

"What, seriously? Hey, HEY, WAYNE! Way to fuck all your employees!"

Bruce had spent the last few months dealing with the defamation of his name and company by social media justice warriors. It had all started when Penny, who worked in HR, had told GCR-FM that Bruce had embezzled years worth of companies superannuation money and skimped on taxes frequently. From there the flood gates came crashing down.

"Yeah, who the hell you think you are? Can't even afford your fancy limo's any more, huh?"

More laughter. More pain. It had been a hard time for him, having once been a highly influential Gothamite, to being publicly shunned and disgraced. None of the claims that had been made were true, but Batman was an ever-growing expense for Bruce, and it wouldn't take a genius to find some faults somewhere in the WayneCorp systems.

"Hey come on, wait up! What, you think you're so powerful you can fuck over more than half of Gotham?!" One shouted, as the group left their drinks and started to follow him.

Bruce had been the subject of daytime gossip TV and news alike. When the story first broke, he agreed to a TV interview to defend his actions, but it only riled the people up more. There was years worth of business anomalies to be explained, in laymen's terms, in only a few minutes, all while keeping the Batman out of the conversation. An impossible task. Bruce came across as smarmy and indifferent.

"Come on, man, we just wanna talk!"

The gang of five picked up their pace to cross the street. One threw a beer bottle, which sailed past Bruce's head and smashed on the wall behind him. They all laughed and turned to each other.

"You missed, tosser, try an' hit him this time!"

Since the interview, the stocks at WayneCorp dwindled, his manor frequently vandalised, and people would throw things and spit at him in the streets. In between all the lawsuits and litigations, indictments and court dates that had flooded his life, Bruce had to disappear. Something that he wasn't too unfamiliar with, but this time it was different. It was out of his control

"Gimme your bottle, then. I'll hit him for sure!" They were getting closer and Bruce knew he had to do something.

With that, Bruce made a jarring, excruciating bolt around the corner to his right, down the next alley to find somewhere to hide. Dumpster, locked doors, old furniture, dead end. The gang rounded the corner just as Bruce turned back to face them. He took a few steps back and picked up the 2X4 laying by the furniture and menaced, holding the plank out at them, as if to say just try me.

Bruce knew they could easily beat him in a fight with his arm broken, he has no defence tactic. His leg spasmed and gave way under him, but Bruce stayed staring at them, plank outstretched, on one knee. "Leave," he commanded, "and you won't get hurt." The gang all burst out laughing. The best Bruce could hope for was a getting a hard, square hit or two in, enough to disinterest the rest of them. He knew the chances of this were slim.

As the group attempt to circle around him, Bruce doesn't make a move. The guy on his right comes too close first. Without warning, Bruce swings the 2x4 into his shin, the crunch echoes through the alleyway. He falls flat on his face and Bruce bring the plank around again and wails into his back. The guy behind him grabs him around neck, trying for a sleeper hold. Bruce launches the butt of the 2x4 square into the guys eye socket. He reels back and howls, dropping Bruce onto his hands, still holding the plank.

But it was too late, the others started to stomp on his ribs and spit and scream. The tosser takes his second bottle and pegs it at Bruce's head, it shatters, he drops and stays down. The tosser laughs hard, spins around and does a little drunken dance, only to turn back and realise the others were gone.

"Wait, what the fuck?" He turned around again, "Hey, assholes!"

A terrifyingly sexy voice appears behind him and whispers "Whats up, honey?", before grabbing his arm, and pulling it back up behind him, and slams his face into the concrete. He wails out through blood and broken teeth. She licks her lips, and still holding his arm, sits down on his back.

"Shh shh," she whispered, "you have been very _naughty_." She was so close to him, he could smell her sweet, earthy scent. The words melted his pain away, and as he lay there whimpering, she lifts his head up by the hair and smacks his face down again. Out cold.

"Too young, anyway." she said to herself.

She turned to Bruce. "And you! I should just leave you here to rot with all you've done!" She moved closer to him. "You disgust me, pig!"

"Please," Bruce begged, breathily, "Selina please."

She rolled her eyes and exhaled, but she knew what she had to do. Even if it went against everything she stood for.


End file.
